


Make Him Proud

by TheDisneyOutsider



Series: Comfortember 2020 [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sorry guys, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDisneyOutsider/pseuds/TheDisneyOutsider
Summary: In the night after the battle, Peter finds comfort in an unexpected companionComfortember, Day 2: First Night
Relationships: Peter Parker & Peter Quill, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Quill & Yondu Udonta
Series: Comfortember 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995802
Comments: 16
Kudos: 146
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Make Him Proud

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 2 for Comfortember. This one's sad guys, but we're going to experience every emotion throughout the prompts this month, so buckle up for the ride! 😂
> 
> If you need something more lighthearted after this and haven't read my first prompt for this challenge yet, you should pop over there after and check it out! (If you have read it already THANK YOU for all the feedback, I was blown away!)

After the battle, the compound was destroyed. Strange had transported most people back where they needed to go, and whoever was left wound up at the Stark’s family cabin for the night where they could hopefully regroup and figure out where to go from there.

Peter was one of those people, not having had the chance to search for Aunt May yet and too exhausted and starved to go too far before collapsing.

Laura Barton along with Happy had cooked up enough food to feed a small army, which, technically, they were. Pepper helped where she could too, but nobody expected too much from the grieving widow who was too strong for her own good.

Peter had attempted to stay out of everyone’s way. Once he was bandaged up and given the okay from Dr. Cho, he had been released to go rest and build up his strength. He tried to find peace in the secludedness of the property, but that was a hard thing to do mere hours after fighting in a literal war. People didn’t leave him along either. Everyone seemed to want to check in on him that first evening, asking him if he was okay, if he needed to eat more—he probably did, but nothing seemed to want to stay down for too long—and Peter had promised them he was fine, all the while holding back his tears as the person who was missing hung heavy in the air.

Now he lay in bed. While others had bunked in the living room, or in tents in the yard, Peter had been given a room all of his own.  _ It’s always been yours _ , Pepper had whispered to him when she brought him upstairs a few hours before. He hadn’t known what to say, guilt weighing heavy at the idea of taking the whole room to himself, but as soon as he had seen it, he knew Pepper wasn’t lying. Walls lined with posters, shelves with Legos, books, and advanced science kits. This room had been built with Peter in mind, and that fact alone had made sleeping in it now all the more impossible.

Peter sighed, tossing for the millionth time since lying down. He tried not to imagine Tony, spending hours in that room, working tirelessly to get it perfect for the boy he had no reason to believe would ever even lay eyes on it.

His handiwork was in every inch of the room. The hours and days the two had spent together, getting to know one another, imprinted on the walls.

He couldn’t sleep there. His lungs stung from wails of anguish he wouldn’t let escape. He needed to get out—he needed air.

He tossed the heavy blanket off his legs and forced them to carry him to the door, though they protested loudly with every step. Once down the stairs, he quietly crept onto the wall and along the ceiling, too scared to accidentally step on a limb and unintentionally wake a concerned voice from their slumber.

With ease, he made it out to the front porch, and without directing them, his feet carried him to the dock on the edge of the lake. He sat, feet dangling off the side, brushing against the cool water below, causing a chill through his body that he ignored.

Even the silence was too loud and in an attempt to extinguish it, he began to speak.

“Why’d you have to go?” he whispered sorrowfully to the stars above, “I barely got the chance to have you back...”

There was no reply, of course there wasn’t, but that didn’t stop the boy from opening the bottle that had been ready to explode all day.

“If you wanted me back so badly, why didn’t you fight harder to stay with me!?” he spoke louder now, his voice starting to shake.

“Anyone could have worn the gauntlet,  _ ANYONE COULD HAVE DONE THIS _ ! Why did it have to be you?” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “What made  _ you _ so special?”

He sighed, looking away from the stars hastily as unfamiliar anxiety crept upon him. The stars meant something different now, an entirely different life, gone up there. A completely new one now facing him down here.

“I know what made you so special... but that doesn’t mean you had to—I _needed_ you, Tony. I _need_ you. Please, _please,”_ the dam broke and an anguished scream escaped his lungs. Tears streamed down his face, though he made no attempt to wipe them away. There was no point.

“Why did you do it?” he sobbed into the air.

“Because he’s a hero.”

He turned as the voice startled him out of his pleas, struggling to make out the figure through his blurred vision.

They stepped closer and the obscurity became clearer, “Quill?”

“Peter two?” Quill nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, having only known Quill for a few days and feeling suddenly exposed at having a witness to his current state.

“We just—in the tents, we heard you. I thought I’d make sure you were okay,” he spoke with a sincerity that Peter hadn’t seen in the older man in all the time he had known him.

Peter cleared his throat and sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, “I’m fine.”

Quill nodded once, and dropped down beside Peter gingerly, “You don’t sound fine...”

Peter averted his eyes, scanning the horizon of the lake, “I will be, I just—I didn’t want...I”

“I understand,” Quill confirmed, “He’s your dad, you loved him.”

Peter turned, looking Quill in the eyes pitifully, “He wasn’t really my dad, you know.”

Quill gave a knowing nod, “Neither was my dad, but in the end that didn’t really matter.”

“Wasn’t your dad a God or something?” Peter questioned, confused.

“My biological father was,” Quill confirmed, “Not my dad. I just wished I had realized that before he left.”

“What happened,” Peter pressed carefully, understanding the sensitivity of the subject.

Quill looked to the sky like Peter had done not long before and sighed, “He gave up his life for me.”

“Oh,” Peter let his head fall low, now staring at his reflection in the dark lake.

“Stark didn’t care that he gave his life up, Peter. As long as you were here, he didn’t care whether he lived or died.”

Peter hesitated briefly, “But what’s the point of bringing me back if he isn’t here to see it?”

Quill only shrugged, “That’s how being a dad works. It took me a while to understand it too, but I think I finally do. As long as he knew you were living and breathing, it didn’t matter if he was.”

“How did you—how do you make it feel okay again?” Peter asked timidly, craving the answer like a drug.

“It’s not easy,” Quill shook his head, “But the most important thing I did was let my friends in, my family. Once I realized I still had them the world didn’t feel quite as lonely.” He paused a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts, “And I promised to make him proud, whatever I do.”

A silence fell over them and the calmness of the night stilled the nightmares waiting all around.

It was a long while later when Peter cleared his throat and exhaled heavily, “Thanks, Quill.”

A heavy arm settled around his shoulder, “Go make Stark proud, Kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I hate endgame compliant fics as much as the next person! But I couldn't help writing two of my favs bonding over their similar experiences. I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> I would be thrilled if you left me tons of comments again, they make me smile so big ❤️


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